


The Value Of Bucky

by camichats



Category: Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Apologies, Battle of New York (Marvel), Bucky Barnes-centric, Confessions, Developing Relationship, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Married Couple, Misunderstandings, Modern Bucky Barnes, Poverty, Self-Worth Issues, Serious Injuries, Soulmates, Time Skips, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:00:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23262853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/camichats/pseuds/camichats
Summary: To his father, Bucky was worth five million dollars. To Tony, he was worth nothing more than the name on his arm. Bucky was a trophy husband and his job was to pretend he didn’t notice and keep smiling, so that’s what he did.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark
Comments: 51
Kudos: 371
Collections: Tony Stark Bingo 2020





	The Value Of Bucky

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for Tony Stark Bingo: R2-Marriage
> 
> Please read the tags and summary! Tony doesn't come off very well in the first half of this fic, and while it is explained, I don't want anyone to be surprised by his behaviour.

They were a family of two. Bucky and his pop, who worked half the time and could barely scrounge together sleep in the other half, let alone play with his son. Bucky didn't lack company, he had the other kids in the apartment and sometimes the one parent they had. There was Shou and Benjamin and Rebecca and Chati, and between the four of them, there were three mom's and one dad. There was one bedroom and a big living room that had seen better days. The bedroom had enough space for everyone's bags of clothes and scarce belongings, and the living room was big enough for the amalgamation of old mattresses and secondhand sleeping bags. It was a little cramped, but Bucky could always sit on the street outside if he wanted some breathing room. Besides, it was all he'd ever known. It had been the ten of them for years now, they were family even if they didn't all look the same. Pop and Rebecca's dad were both white, and the rest of them had various shades of brown. Bucky didn’t know his mother’s ethnicity, so he didn’t bother to ask if anyone else knew theirs. 

James Buchanan Barnes had been named by his father, and he didn't know what happened to his mother. He could never remember a time when he wasn't surrounded by other kids or parents running from broken families or bad relationships. He'd asked his dad why his name was so weird, why Shou got a name from home but he didn't. Pop had said, "It's your name kiddo, you gotta learn to live with it." Shou nicknamed him 'Bucky' and it was loads better than 'James'-- or 'Jimmy' like his dad always insisted on calling him-- so that's what he started going by. 

Bucky had four shirts, two pairs of pants, one coat that was too big for him-- someone on the bus had given it to him, and it was loads warmer than the jacket he'd had back then, so it didn't matter that it was a little big-- two pairs of shoes, four pairs of socks (though none of them matched), and three pairs of boxers; he didn't have pj's. It all fit in a duffle, and he knew that if Pop said they had to get moving, all Bucky had to do was grab it and go. One of those shirts was a polo, and one of the pair of shoes were dress shoes. They went to church every Sunday for one hour, and Bucky wore the polo, the nice shoes, and whichever jeans were clean. It was boring, but Pop said they had to go if they wanted to keep eating on Sunday's. Bucky liked eating a lot more than he liked not being bored, so he went to church. He didn't have school supplies, not really. He had a single pencil and one battered notebook that only made it to school if he remembered to tuck it under his arm in the mornings, which didn't always happen. 

He had his soulmate's name on his upper arm, and everybody that he'd ever lived with had seen it; they normally shared one bathroom, and he wasn't going to try and take turns in it just to change clothes. **Anthony Edward Stark** it said in bold, black letters. Bucky kept an ear open, but he knew that most people didn't meet their soulmate until they were in their twenties. 

"Come on, Jimmy, change into your Sunday best." 

Bucky blinked up at Pop from where he was sitting on his sleeping bag trying to get his homework done. "It's not Sunday." It was Thursday, he had school tomorrow, and for Lucy's birthday, her mom was making cupcakes for them; he'd been looking forward to it all month when Lucy started talking about her birthday, and he'd been counting down the days. 

"Yeah I know, kiddo, but do it anyway for me, yeah?" 

Bucky frowned but nodded, setting the math paper to the side. He'd be able to finish it after they got done with whatever this was-- a gold star on homework he didn't keep wasn't great, but it was better than nothing. He grabbed the polo, got out the nice shoes, and he even picked up the pair of jeans that hadn't been worn since last time they did laundry. 

Pop didn't explain where they were going, but Bucky thought he saw Pop grab the bag he usually brought to work. They got on the subway and went all the way to Manhattan. It was a really long trip, and Bucky was tired of standing by the time Pop ushered him out of the doors. Then they started walking, and Bucky got to three blocks before he got tired of counting. Pop set the pace-- too fast for Bucky's much shorter legs-- and he kept his hand in Bucky's, which they hadn't done in a couple years, since Bucky got old enough to not wander off. He led them into an office building, and Bucky started frowning again. What were they doing here? He'd been to a couple government buildings with Pop before, and none of them had looked like this, so this must be something else. 

Pop walked right up to the receptionist's desk. "I'm here to see Mister Stark." 

"Name?" she asked. 

"Barnes." 

She flipped a couple pages, then nodded. "Yes, I'm seeing that. If you'll take a seat-" she pointed to the right side of the room "-I'll let you know when he's ready to see you." 

"Thank you," Pop said, then he brought Bucky over to the chairs. 

They were comfortable and firm, better than anything Bucky had ever slept on. He pushed himself to the backrest and knocked his toes together to stay entertained. It only took a minute when someone came up to them and said that Mister Stark was ready to see him, but Bucky stayed where he was, assuming that Pop was the only one going in. 

"C'mon Jimmy, on your feet." 

Bucky had to scoot forward before getting up, and he followed Pop without question. They did weird things sometimes, it wasn't that out of the ordinary. One time he'd stayed with a social worker overnight, that had been pretty strange, so this was barely worth noting. They went in an elevator, and it was in much better working order than any other Bucky had been in. Everything still shined, it didn't creak and groan as it switched floors, and the paint on the buttons wasn't chipped in the slightest. After that, they were led to a room with a doctor and two men in suits. One of the men in a suit was standing, and the other was sitting in a chair by the wall, not looking at them. 

"Mister Stark, thank you for seeing me." Pop started to hold out a hand, but he retracted it when the man in the suit ignored him and instead stared at Bucky. 

"Is this him?" 

"Yep. James Buchanan Barnes. Jimmy, say hi," Pop said, giving him a nudge. 

"Hello, sir," he said and didn't take a single step towards him. 

"I'm Howard Stark, and this is Doctor Gettleman. Did your father tell you why you're here?" 

Knot starting to form in his stomach, Bucky shook his head and shrunk against his father's side. 

Mister Stark glanced at Pop, who in turn looked down at Bucky. He ruffled Bucky's hair, then said, "This is your soulmate's father. I figured you'd want to meet him, but they just need to confirm your mark is real first." 

"Why wouldn't it be real?" 

"Mister Stark is a public figure, people might try and lie. Doctor Gettleman is just gonna take a look and make sure it's real, then you'll see him. Doesn't that sound good?" 

"...I guess." 

Pop nodded at Mister Stark, who made a gesture to the doctor. 

"James?" the doctor said, keeping his voice low and soothing. "I'm Doctor Gettleman, and all I'm going to do is check your mark. I'm going to put some of this on-" he held up a little spray bottle "-and that's it. It won't hurt, but it might be a little cold, okay?" 

Bucky gave a small nod. 

"Do you mind telling me where your soulmark is?" 

"My arm," he said, then pointed at the spot in case they couldn't guess. 

"Okay. I'm going to come sit next to you and roll up your sleeve, is that okay?" 

Bucky nodded, and Pop moved away. He wanted to cling to him with one hand and drag him back where he should be, but he felt frozen in place. 

Doctor Gettleman did what he said he was going to, kneeling on the floor next to Bucky and rolling up his left sleeve with practiced moves of his fingers. "This is going to be a little cold," he warned, then sprayed the mixture on Bucky's arm, directly over the name. It was thicker than water, and colder than he'd expected. Doctor Gettleman looked at it for a moment, wiped it off with a cloth, said, "Doing it one more time just to be sure," then sprayed again. He waited again, longer this time, and wiped it off. "There you are, all done. See, not so bad." 

"No," Bucky agreed in a small voice, worried about how this was going to end. 

Doctor Gettleman unrolled the shirt sleeve for him, then got to his feet. "It's real, no sign of tampering." 

Mister Stark nodded, and Bucky shivered even though his arm wasn't all that cold anymore. "Thank you for your time, Doctor," he said, shaking his hand. Doctor Gettleman grabbed a bag and headed for the door, leaving the four of them alone in the room. "Since it checks out, we can start signing. Jeff?" He looked to the man sitting on the chair, who got to his feet after his name was said. 

"Signing what?" Bucky asked, and Pop gave him a sad smile. 

"It's a good thing, kiddo." 

"What's a good thing?" he asked, but this time, he didn't get an answer. 

Mister Stark signed a small paper, about the size and dimensions of his hand, and Pop signed the last page in a stack of papers like he did at the government offices. Mister Jeff pointed at the spot he put the pen to, talking in bored tone about how it was the same as what they'd already agreed. They switched papers and inspected them, then Pop nodded, tucking his little paper in his bag quickly. Mister Jeff turned the stack of papers to face him, nodded in satisfaction, then handed it to Mister Stark. "Everything's in order." 

"Good," he said, then he turned to Pop and asked, "Do you want to say goodbye?" 

Instead of Pop saying goodbye to the men and them leaving, he turned to Bucky looking sad and guilty. "Hey kiddo." He bent down so they were near the same eye level. "You're worth more than that little apartment, you know that, right? You're worth so much more, and now that you're here, you're gonna see that. Keep your head up Jimmy, you'll be great." Pop gave him a quick hug then left, practically running out of the room. 

"Pop?" Bucky whispered, eyes watering. "Where's- where's he goin'?" He took a stumbling step towards the door, but then Mister Stark was at his side, a kind look on his face. 

"James, I'm sorry your father didn't explain. He wants you to grow up knowing your soulmate. Tony's my son, and I don't mind you living with us so you can get to know each other. He's only a couple years younger than you, you'll be going to a better school, you'll get your own room... doesn't that sound nice?" 

But all of it was background noise as Bucky tried to understand that Pop had left him here. Maybe Bucky didn't have a mother, but he'd always had a father. Until now, apparently. Now, he had a soulmate and that soulmate's father. He didn't even know what Tony looked like. "I don't have my clothes," was what ended up coming out of Bucky's mouth as the tears spilled over. 

"I'll buy you new clothes. New shirts, pants, everything you could ever want, okay? I know you'll miss your father, but it won't be so bad living with us." 

He started sobbing into his hands, and after a few failed attempts to soothe him, Mister Stark offered him tissues. 

* * *

He met Tony, and Tony looked at him emotionlessly for a moment. Two minutes after that, he said, "He's boring, he doesn't even know what a transistor is." 

Bucky didn't say anything as Mister Jarvis got onto Tony for being mean to him. Over the following years, he was going to get very used to not saying anything when Tony reminded him that he didn't like him. 

A couple restless nights into staying at the Stark Mansion, he snooped around Mister Stark's office. He didn't know what most of the papers said, but he recognized a checkbook once he could see the details. To George Barnes, it read, and Bucky recognized Pop's name. Why was Pop getting a check from Mister Stark? One little line read Custody Settlement, and Bucky knew the word custody from that time with social services. The center line had a five followed by one-two-three-four-five-six zeros. Five million. Five million dollars to George Barnes for custody. 

Bucky started crying again, and he slammed the book closed. So that's what Pop had meant when he said Bucky was worth more than the apartment. Bucky was worth five million dollars, which he knew was way more than the entire _building_ had been. Pop had sold him. Gotten Bucky out of his hair at the same time he got so much money, he wouldn't have to work ever again. Instead of missing his father and the eight other people that he'd gotten used to, he was angry and so glad to be away from it all. He was never going to see Pop again, and that was _fine_. 

* * *

Tony saw Bucky, and he was disappointed. His soulmate was supposed to be here for _him_ not the money. 

They got older, Bucky got handsome, and Tony started to notice. Bucky smiled at him like he was the sun rising, and Tony pushed him away. Every time he started to get it into his head that Bucky cared about him, he reminded himself: it was the money. Bucky came for the money, and that's why he stayed. 

Tony hated him. He wired it into his skin until it didn't matter that Bucky was the most gorgeous person on the planet. He could now look at Bucky and immediately have the overlay of **money, money, money** over him, without having to get past his face and the kindness he treated everyone with. 

Bucky wanted money? Fine, he'd get it. As much goddamn money as he wanted, but Tony wasn't going to let him sink his claws into his heart. He wasn't going to let that happen. He seeped into other people to try and erase any trace of longing, but the ultimate truth was that he couldn't ignore his soulmate. There were a few drunken lapses when he was in his twenties, but after an orgasm, he always remembered himself and got the hell out of there. Maybe he could divorce Bucky. Maybe he could send him away to live on some Greek island so he'd never have to see him again, but it was good enough that no one would think of it as them separating. 

But he wanted him close. Gold digger or not, Bucky was his soulmate, and Tony felt better about... everything when he was close by. Not too close-- he wouldn't do that to himself-- but still in arm's reach. 

* * *

It was stupid that Bucky had fallen in love with Tony, when his husband clearly didn't feel the same. Yeah they'd gotten married; it had been Howard's idea when Tony turned sixteen. Tony had been furious, and Bucky had said they were a bit young for that, but at the end of the day, Howard was the one that paid for Tony's college and pulled the strings to get them an apartment instead of Tony living in the dorms for his freshman year-- not that Tony had wanted that, he said that staying in the dorms was the true college experience and he didn't want to miss out on it, but Bucky had known it was because he didn't want for them to live together. 

Bucky had done the smart thing; he learned to keep the house, how to cook, and enough about engineering basics that he wasn't a hundred percent lost when Tony talked about work. Falling in love with Tony had been the worst mistake of Bucky's life, but he wasn't even sure it was his fault. He'd read up on soulmates, and a lot of people felt a pull to be with each other, even before they knew for a fact who it was. So Bucky had the universe nudging him towards Tony, and he'd thought that if he was good enough, Tony would like him back. 

Tony was a good person. He was a genius. He made his company better than ever after Howard passed it on to him, and he supported so many charities that the number of lives he helped was quantifiable. 

Tony was not a good husband. If he didn't hate Bucky, he didn't like him all the time. Some days, it was fine, almost like Bucky was one of his staff or something. Other days, Bucky was surprised that Tony hadn't divorced him. Not to sound melodramatic, but Bucky was pretty sure he hadn't been happy in... ever. He'd been fucking miserable as a teenager, and all he really remembered from childhood was too-crowded living spaces and a gnawing hunger. Adulthood had been one boring, miserable blur, and he didn't see that changing any time soon. 

Tony sat down on the couch next to him while he watched the news, and Bucky felt a thrill go through him. Tony was voluntarily spending time with him! That- _surely_ that meant something. "How was your day?" Bucky asked. 

"It was okay," Tony said neutrally. "The normal SI bullshit, but Obie's taking care of it." 

"He's been taking care of it a lot recently," Bucky noted. "Maybe you should get an assistant so you're not so stressed." 

"I _have_ an assistant," Tony said, his tone conveying that he thought Bucky was stupid for bringing it up. 

Bucky wilted a little inside, but he'd long since learned not to react where anyone could see-- a talent for the cameras, but it didn't let him down when he managed to have a conversation with Tony. "I meant like a personal assistant. Not just your stuff for SI, but your stuff for everything. Organize your appearances, interviews, meetings, stuff like that." 

"Huh. That's not a bad idea, but then the next question is how would I go about finding someone to trust with all the information they'd need to have." 

"I'm sure you'll think of something," Bucky said, testing the waters by smiling at him as he put an arm around his shoulders. 

Tony smiled back, so Bucky leaned in, kissing him lightly. There was a moment of hesitance, then Tony started to kiss him back. Bucky leaned into it, moving his hand to cup Tony's face. Everything was going well-- going fucking great, honestly-- but when Bucky moved to get a hand on his hip, Tony put a hand on his chest and leaned back; he wouldn't look at Bucky. "I'm kinda hungry,” he said, and he slid away quickly, leaving Bucky with pulverized hopes and a too-warm body all by himself. 

Not to sound like an entitled asshole, but by the time they reached fifteen years of marriage, they'd had sex less than ten times. All of those times, Tony was A. not sober B. out of other options and C. ran away afterwards like he hated himself for doing it. Bucky was happy every time Tony came to him, and so heartbroken afterwards that it felt like someone reached into his chest and started yanking. He stopped trying after they reached ten years-- ten year anniversary, Tony's new PA had booked them a table at a romantic restaurant, Bucky went home alone, and Tony got off in a storage closet with their waiter; after that, Bucky let her know that they didn't really celebrate anniversaries, so she didn't need to plan for it in the future. 

Bucky kept up with Tony's schedule, because for all that he knew that Tony was never going to love him, he still cared. As his husband, there were certain events he needed to be prepared for, and it was nice to see Tony when he had some free time. He always traveled with him, and so far Tony hadn't had any real complaints-- groaning and saying "Ugh I can't get rid of you, can I?" didn't count. So this was to say that when Tony went for a weapons demonstration in Afghanistan, Bucky knew it was happening. He wasn't invited when it was military specific-- something about classified materials, he didn't really know the minutiae-- but the part that bothered him more than the visit was the reporter Tony had had over the night before. Seeing her walk around their home in Tony's button up shirt from the night before-- dark red, Bucky's had matched it, of course-- had been a punch to the stomach but an expected one; they didn't even share a room, hadn't for years. 

At the time that Tony went missing, Bucky was still thinking about that goddamn woman and her stupidly perfect hair. He had to wrestle his hair into place for it to look the least bit respectable, but she woke up, rolled out of someone else's bed, and still looked ready to go on her segment. Maybe he could tell Tony that it hurt him. But would he even care? Tony was a good person, but he wasn't a good husband. Bucky did something to him way back when they were kids, but he didn't know what that was and apologies had only made Tony more upset with him. 

At the time they told him Tony went missing, Bucky felt like a bucket of ice had been poured over his head. He checked his soulmark, then told the person on the phone that he was still alive. "You're going to look for him, right?" 

"Um, sir, I'm not sure I can disclose that sort of information to-" 

"I'm his soulmate, and he's still alive, why wouldn't you be able to tell me that you're going to find him?" 

"Sir uh, like I said before-" 

"Not to be rude kid, but can you put Colonel Rhodes on? He's the official liaison to Stark Industries, and in Tony's absence, I need to talk to him." He was full of shit, and he knew it. There was no way Tony had left the company to him, but this kid with his nose still wet wouldn't know that. 

"One moment," he said, and then Bucky was waiting with a silent phone to his ear. 

"Bucky?" a voice asked, and Bucky slumped in relief. 

"Jim. What's going on? They're tellin' me that Tony's missing but they won't even tell me when they're planning on getting him back." 

"Yeah, it's a fucking shitty situation, but I'll bring him home." 

"What are you talking about?" he asked with a frown, because Jim was in the military, and something in his tone didn't sit right with the situation. 

Jim gave an aggravated sigh. "Active war zone, terrorist groups that don't keep prisoners- they think it's a fucking waste of time and resources to look for him. Don't worry about it, I won't give up." 

_Waste of resources_ reverberated through his mind. He'd never imagine that in a million years, would someone try to say that about Tony. Himself? Sure. He came from nothing. He didn't even know his mother's name let alone where she was from; all Bucky had to know her by was black hair and light brown skin. "If you need anything..." Bucky didn't have to finish saying it, because Jim knew what was on offer. 

"I'll keep you updated," Jim said, then hung up. 

Bucky didn't move for a minute, frozen in place with the phone to his ear. It was hard not to be crushed by a few rushed words and ending the conversation with barely a word goodbye. He'd known Jim almost as long as Tony had, and he'd thought they were friends. Maybe he was reading too much into it. Jim was out there, trying to find Tony, he didn't need to stay on the phone with Bucky wasting time. But he couldn't help the thought in the back of his mind that no one cared about him if Tony wasn't around. Even when Tony _was_ around, Bucky got pushed to the background, barely an afterthought if they thought about him at all. It wasn't a surprise. It didn't even matter much. An upset Bucky Stark wasn't a threat to anyone, and they all knew that. 

* * *

Everyone thought Bucky was stupid. He understood why, and it's not like he disagreed. He'd never gone to college, he'd only graduated high school because Howard Stark had hired tutors for him, determined that his son's soulmate would finish at least that much schooling. He was always beside Tony, and anyone would look stupid next to him, next to all that genius in one body. People thought that since Bucky did not leave or aim for higher pursuits, that he didn't pay attention. 

So when Obie wasn't as torn up about Tony's disappearance as he should've been for someone who just lost the closest thing they had to a son, Bucky noticed. He looked at what was going on in SI, and decided to check on Pepper. Tony had liked her a hell of a lot more than Bucky, and the feeling was probably mutual. He thought about calling, but phone calls hadn't been going so well for him lately. Meeting in person would be more efficient for everyone, considering she was at the office every day making sure things continued to run smoothly and Bucky needed to be seen out of the house. His existence was good fodder for gossip rags and not much else, but still, he should get out and be seen for a bit. 

Because Bucky was thinking ahead, he'd made an appointment with her, but that was about all he'd planned. This wasn't a have-a-plan sort of conversation. He needed to see, in person, if she was as broken up about this as Stane, and what-- if anything-- she knew about it. "I'm here to see Miss Potts," he said to the secretary. 

"Name?" 

"Bucky Stark." 

"Of course Mister Stark, I'll let her know you're here." 

"Thank you," he said, but she already had her phone to her ear and wasn't listening. There was only one important Mister Stark, and it wasn't him. Sometimes it amazed him how, through all of this bitterness, none of it was towards Tony. Bucky could be better for him; he would've already done that if he knew what it was Tony wanted. It's not Tony's fault that Bucky was... present and that's it. 

* * *

Getting Stane arrested wasn't easy, but between Bucky and Pepper-- her help very reluctantly given, he wondered what exactly Tony had said about him to make her dislike him so completely-- and the information they found, it was solid. Three months in and Bucky was starting to wonder if Tony would ever be found, the thought like acid crawling across his skin. 

Jim didn't even call to let Bucky know. He'd called Pepper first, and afterwards, sent Bucky a text. The only reason he saw it was because Pepper had also sent him a text about it, telling him the time and place he'd be coming back on American soil out of obligation for him being Tony's soulmate and husband. 

Tony started walking down the ramp, and Bucky was so excited (and relieved and so fucking happy) to see him again that he forgot: Tony doesn't love him. He hugged him, carefully, because he saw the sling and there was no way that after three months of captivity that he was healed everywhere else. "I missed you so much," Bucky said, and Tony wriggled awkwardly, patting him once on the shoulder. And then Bucky remembered how Tony kinda couldn't care less about him, and let him go. "Are you okay?" 

Tony snorted. "Peachy." He breezed past, leaving Bucky alone on the ramp looking like a jackass. 

Bucky took a deep breath and came down, carefully ignoring the caring words hidden behind banter that Tony and Pepper exchanged. 

They left, Pepper filled Tony in on what happened with Stane, and they went home. Pepper and Jim left to fulfill their professional obligations, and Bucky learned a little bit more about how much Tony disliked him. The front door closed, and as soon as it did, Tony said, "You should get your own place." 

Bucky looked at him, not quite knowing what to say to Tony's even tone. "What?" It sounded like he was getting kicked out as soon as Tony was back. 

"Yeah, I was thinking, I'm the one that decorated this place, but you should have a place of your own, right? You should look into that. Buy a house wherever you want, make it everything you ever wanted, and you can live there." 

He blinked, keeping his expression blank like he always did. "What's wrong with here?" 

Tony shrugged with his uninjured shoulder. "I was just thinking that maybe you'd like your own space." 

Tony had had a lot of time to think. And apparently, what he'd been thinking about, was how much he didn't want Bucky around. Normally, Bucky would have given a noncommittal answer, something like, "I'll look into it," but he hadn't seen Tony in _three months_ and he was tired of this back and forth. "Why don't you say what you mean," he said. 

Tony raised an eyebrow at the change in script, but responded to it easily. "Fine. I don't want you here." 

"Why?" 

"I like being able to relax, and I can't do that with you fucking hovering all the time." 

"I hover?" That was news to him. The only time he stayed by Tony's side was when they were at a gala and Bucky's entire reason for being there was arm candy. 

"I don't like you. You _know_ I don't, I don't know why you're trying to push it now. I just went through hell, I'm not looking to soothe your stupid ego," Tony said, then stomped away. Or rather, he walked away gingerly, but with the air of someone who wanted to stomp. 

Bucky figured that if he gave it a few days, Tony would get over it. 

* * *

Bucky heard a massive crash, and ran to see what it was. As far as he could tell, 'it' was a massive fucking hole through their house. "What the hell," he muttered, peering down to see where it ended. The hole went all the way down to the garage, with DUM-E spraying white foam but no alarm was blaring. "Tony!" he yelled down. 

"I'm fine!" got yelled back, but Tony had once said that right after breaking his arm, so Bucky jogged his way down. 

A gleaming metal suit was making its way away from the cars, one of which it had clearly landed on. "Are we calling this billionaire eccentricity?" Bucky asked. 

"Sure, let's call it that." 

* * *

Tony got hot and cold with him. Before, he wouldn’t like Bucky every day, twenty four hours a day. Now, in the time following Afghanistan, he'd go into Bucky's room and cuddle up to him in the middle of the night, and ten seconds later scream at Bucky for kissing his forehead. And then he'd come back later-- sometimes one minute, other times it would be hours-- and say that they should go on a date, only to get mad at Bucky for trying to figure out where they were going so he could dress appropriately. Tony would drag him to the office sometimes, not that Bucky had anything to do there; mostly, he pulled out his phone and entertained himself with articles or games until Tony decided that actually, he was in the way and should go home. 

All in all, it wasn't more grating than any other part of their marriage had been. 

* * *

Tony talked to him more, now, but that didn't mean it was always good news. "I had heavy metal poisoning," he said, not looking at Bucky and affecting nonchalance, "that's why I was acting so strange. Sorry about that." 

Bucky wasn't sure Tony had ever apologized to him before. If this had been a year ago, Bucky would have said nothing and let Tony fill the silence like he always did. But Tony was trying something new here (communicating with him), so Bucky was going to try something new in return: a response that did more than use air. "Thank you for telling me." He _wanted_ Tony to talk to him. Positive reinforcement, right? He'd read about it in a parenting book, but surely it worked for all relationships, not just parent-children ones. But also, Bucky was hurt that Tony hadn't told him sooner, and he didn't care to keep that to himself like he'd been doing. "You could have told me sooner," he said gently. 

"Well I'm telling you now." Tony's eyes darted away even though they hadn't been on him in the first place. Ah, so he was feeling guilty about something, but not this. 

"Is there something else you want to tell me?" 

"Nope," Tony said, clearly lying. Tony could lie to Bucky when it suited him, but evidently, this was not one of those times. Tony must have realized that as well, because he blew out a breath. "I kissed Pepper." 

Bucky blinked. Not surprising. Still hurt like a motherfucker. He wasn't going to think about it. 

"Really?" Tony said with a humorless chuckle. "Nothing to say to that?" 

"What could I possibly say that would make you care." Tony had slept with dozens of people, and he hadn't cared what Bucky thought about it then. Pepper was different, she was... more. More personal, more close to their lives, more of a fucking stab in the gut because what if Tony was in love with her? How was Bucky going to live with that? 

Tony swallowed, and he finally looked at Bucky. "I'm trying, okay? I'm telling you about it before it leads somewhere, the least you could do is be happy that I'm giving you a heads up." 

"You expect for me to be happy that not only are you still cheating on me, but I have to hear about and form a response that makes you happy now too." 

Tony grit his teeth, cheeks reddening. "You're lucky I didn't kick you out on your ass the moment Howard died." 

"Why didn't you?" He'd always wondered why Tony kept him around. Maybe now he'd get an answer. 

Except instead of answering, Tony's cheeks gained even more color as his face contorted in anger, and he left. Tony came barreling back into the room a minute later, spitting mad. "You're my fucking soulmate! Ever since I was born, I knew you'd be complete shit, but it's like you have no shame about it! I have sex with other people, I stand you up on dates, and you never care!" he screamed. Tony didn't scream, not really; Bucky wasn't important enough to warrant screaming. "Pepper turned me down, by the way. You know, if you give a shit. And I'm happy about that! I kissed her because it felt like I was supposed to, but I don't want to be pulling down my pants for any of these goddamn people, all I wanted was a soulmate that cares about me!" Tony stopped, chest heaving. "And you _don't_. You never have, all you want out of this is money, and I don't understand why you've never been happy when you have everything you want. If one of us gets to be miserable, it's me. I can't get rid of you; I'm fucking stuck with you for the rest of our lives." 

_All you want out of this is money. All you want is money._ "You think I'm with you for money?" 

"I know you are! Jesus christ, you don't have to keep pretending. I think it's pretty damn obvious that I'm not going to cut you off, okay? Just- fucking pack your shit and go where you want to be and _leave me alone_." Tony was on the verge of tears, and that didn't add up. 

"What, exactly, do you think I've been buying with your money? Cars? They're all yours. I don't need a house, I live here. I buy food, sure. I've bought suits and more clothes than I know what to do with, but you're the one that told me to do that." Tony had phrased it more like 'don't embarrass me', but the end result was the same. "I don't understand why you're accusing me when-" 

"I heard Howard talk about it!" 

"To who?" It sure as hell hadn't been Bucky. 

" _You_." 

"When I was nine?" he asked flatly. 

"I didn't- okay _fine_ , I didn't hear the full name, but he said Barnes." Tony didn't sputter, but Bucky had never seen him this upset, either. 

A familiar ice cold chill washed over him. 

"What's the matter?" Tony asked, voice cruel. "Lies coming apart?" 

"My father," Bucky muttered. He'd never gotten over it. Howard had done something good for Bucky, he could admit that, but it didn't make that first betrayal any less painful. 

"Your... father?" 

"Where the hell do you think I got the name from? He sold me to Howard." This time, Bucky was the one to leave the room, but unlike Tony, he wasn't planning on going back. 

It was hours later-- Bucky was wondering if he felt like making food or if he was going to order delivery-- when Tony knocked on his door, peeking his head in tentatively. "Hey," he said, voice more gentle than it had been in years. 

Bucky said nothing. He didn't want to talk. He didn't want to think, either, but he didn't have much choice in that one. As long as he was conscious, his brain was going. As it was, he'd spent the time alone thinking about his birth father and wondering if he was still alive, and if he was, would it make Bucky feel any better to talk to him about it? He could barely remember that day, but he was pretty sure his father had tried to claim that he was doing it for the good of Bucky's future. What bullshit. 

"I um, wanted to apologize for-" Tony gave a humorless laugh "-everything. And I know that normally when people say that, they're talking about everything in one situation, but I mean _everything_ everything. My entire life after you showed up, I thought it was your idea. That you'd- you know, figured out that the name on your arm meant money so you went for it. I ignored you, treated you like shit, I- fuck I told Rhodey and Pepper that was why you were around too, and I can't imagine they were very nice about it." 

Oh. That explained why they'd treated him the way they did when Tony was missing. 

"I really am so sorry," he said, and it sounded like he was. 

Bucky was laying on the bed, with one arm over his eyes, so he felt it when Tony sat down on the mattress. "All I wanted was for you to be happy with me," he admitted quietly. Saying it aloud felt like so much more heartbreak. "You never were." 

"I wouldn't let you. You know um- you know those times we... that we slept together?" Tony asked, his words halting and awkward. 

He was pretty sure that Tony had never been in his room after they started sleeping in separate ones. They never talked about those times. "Yeah." 

"I'm sorry that I just- fuck, I messed up so many times I can't even remember them all. But uh, those times we had sex, I hated myself afterwards because I thought you didn't care about me, and that's why I was always so... you know. Terrible." 

"It doesn't matter," Bucky muttered. 

Tony was quiet for a moment so long it felt like he was going to leave, but he didn't move. "I want it to matter. I... want to fix this. We're soulmates, we could be happy together if we tried." 

"I've _been_ trying," Bucky said. Why was he turning this down? This was everything he'd always wanted: Tony, here, apologizing for past mistakes and telling him that he cared. 

"I know. And I'm sorry." So many apologies in one day, was this even real? "I guess what I'm trying to say is, will you let _me_ try? If you can't forgive me, that's- it's fine-- well not _fine_ , but I would deserve it, and you would deserve to be angry with me after everything I've done. But um. Consider this me asking for a favor as your soulmate. Just. Three days. Give me three days to prove that I'm worth the effort, and whatever you decide after that, I'll respect." 

Bucky shifted his arm, peering at Tony. Was it obvious that he'd been crying? Probably. "I'd give you every day of the rest of my life," he said. 

Tony shifted, uncomfortable with his honesty. Or maybe it was the sentiment behind it that made him uncomfortable-- that he could fuck up again and again for twenty years and Bucky would still give him another chance. Tony swallowed, throat bobbing with the force of it. "Thank you," he said. "I'm uh. Gonna go now. Lots of stuff to go through after Stane. I don't think I ever thanked you for that, so um, thanks. I never..." Tony stopped shaking his head. "Thank you." 

* * *

"How do you feel about moving back to New York?" Tony asked, where a few years ago, he would've moved their things and had Pepper tell him the liftoff time without any other information. 

"We can." 

Tony opened his mouth, then had to close it again. They'd had to start marriage counseling to learn how to communicate. It was an absolute shit storm at first, but it had started helping. "Right, but how do you feel about it? Do you want to? I was hoping we could live in the Tower that I've been planning, but we don't have to. I'd have to go up to get it off the grid and start it up and everything, but we could keep living here." 

Bucky kept staring the spoon in his hand, lost for words. Now that he was expected to respond to things said to him (and respond honestly), he often found himself speechless. "I don't care where we live, as long as you take me with you." 

"I'm pretty sure Dr. Quinn would get on to you for that," Tony snarked, then winced when he saw Bucky retreat into himself. "Sorry, that was in poor taste." Bucky had admitted-- in a very small voice-- that he never wanted to be left behind or sent away. After knowing the real story of how they came to meet, that made sense. "I didn't mean it, I was just-" 

"I know." 

Tony nodded to himself. "Anyways, is Manhattan alright? We can drop by the Mansion if you want, but I was planning on ignoring it." 

"That's fine." 

* * *

Tony gave him a quick rundown before he left, and the fact that he'd thought of Bucky at all was a warm comfort to him through an otherwise cold room. The Avengers Initiative, gods, cosmic cubes... it was more than Bucky knew how to deal with. But then, that was why he was staying at the Tower instead of going to Shield with Tony. He didn't actually feel rejected about being left behind this time, but it did make him nervous to be separated from Tony so quickly after they had started working on their relationship. They weren't in the same bedroom quite yet, but they'd been planning to share the master bedroom when they officially moved in the Tower. 

Everything happened so quickly. Tony called him to let him know that he was going to be gone for at least another day, and they made awkward chitchat just to get in the habit of talking to each other. 

When the portal opened, Bucky wasn't in the building. That was the good news. The bad news was that he'd been grabbing some takeout to bring back there when all hell broke loose. The ceiling collapsed on him, and at first he was in pain. The pain scared him, but not as much as when the pain went away. There were explosions and screams and so much gunfire that Bucky felt like he was in a warzone instead of New York. The rubble shifted and he screamed as the pain came back in a rush; it lasted for a moment, and then he blacked out. 

When he came to again, it was hard to breathe. He couldn't see anything. He couldn't move- oh _god_ he couldn't move, and that made breathing harder and all he wanted to do was see Tony one more time because it fucking sucked ass that they'd finally started talking to each other and this was how it was going to end. 

* * *

Tony had tried to call Bucky before going in the portal, but there had been no answer. _Please let him be safe_ , was his last thought before the bomb exploded. 

He woke up, miraculously alive, and he tried to call him again-- no answer. 

"Everything okay, Tony?" Steve asked, all tentative and with a small smile that meant he was trying to repair the way they'd been screaming at each other before. 

"Bucky's not picking up," he said, hitting redial. 

"Who's Bucky?" 

"His soulmate and husband," Natasha answered, and Tony resolutely did not appreciate that she'd seen him at his worst with Bucky. Her tone was free of judgment, but that didn't mean she wasn't thinking it. 

"He was supposed to be at the Tower today, but he wasn’t there and now he's not picking up," Tony grit out, worry hitting him harder than his own near-death had. 

"We can- help with relief efforts, right? Try to find him?" 

"Maybe you can, Captain," Natasha said, "but us regular humans are running on fumes right now.” 

"There's room at the Tower," Tony said absently, "you can bunk down there if you need." No answer. Fuck it, he needed to find a hospital. They were overwhelmed right now, but Tony couldn't stand here and do nothing. Maybe Steve was right and he could try to help. He took one step, had to lock his jaw to keep from making any noise, then kept walking. 

"Where are you going?" Steve asked, taking a few quick steps to catch up with him. 

"What you said, helping with relief." 

"No offense, but you're falling apart. Get some rest, I'm sure they'll call you as soon as they find him." 

"Wouldn't be able to sleep," he grunted. 

* * *

There was fog in his head and people bustling back and forth. The lights were bright, and all around him was the sound of beeping machines, people talking, and wheels on linoleum floor. "Sir, are you with us?" someone said, hovering over his face with a little pen flashlight in his hand. Oh. That's what the blinding light was from, not the fluorescents in the ceiling. "Sir, do you know your name?" 

Bucky opened his mouth to answer, but he started coughing and it _hurt_ so goddamn much. There was the prick of a needle in his right arm-- that was strange, the nurse had been on his left side-- and everything faded out again. 

* * *

"You should rest," Thor said, looking worried. Steve had stopped a while ago, downing five protein bars and a gallon of gatorade before passing out on the couch, and Thor had taken his place. 

Tony wasn't sure how he was still walking, to be honest. "I'm fine," he said. The pain was mostly gone now, and he'd grabbed some water and granola bars when they dropped Steve off, so he was doing better than he was before. All he knew was that, if the situation were reversed, Bucky would still be looking for _him_ , and he wasn't about to add another disappointment to that man's life. He'd dealt with quite enough of it from Tony before that he didn't need to be adding anything new to the pile. 

Hospitals were overwhelmed, he knew that. He'd been to three so far, and they'd let him look at the John Doe's they had; he'd seen dozens of other people doing the same. If Bucky gave his name, everyone would know that he was Tony's husband and give him a call. This hospital was the last, closest option, and after that, he might have to take Thor's advice and get some rest. He didn't want to think about it, but it was possible that Bucky hadn't been found yet. There was so much rubble, so many people unaccounted for, and so much disarray that it was very likely he wasn't in a hospital yet. But he wasn't thinking about that, he was thinking about how this hospital surely had Bucky. 

* * *

Bucky had a tube down his throat, no left arm, a crushed collarbone, broken ribs, a punctured lung, and internal bleeding. He missed the arm the most. The bones would get better, the lung would heal, but there was no getting back his soulmark. Without it... Tony could finally cut his losses. He couldn't tell them who he was with the tube in his throat, and he couldn't grip a pen to write it down because of muscle exhaustion or some shit. He wasn't in blinding pain, so that was nice. It still hurt. He kept trying to lift his left arm and nothing happened. Hell, he tried to lift his right arm and it barely twitched. 

This was... fine. It was fine. He'd survived worse. Not physically of course, but the nurse that came by to make sure he was still breathing kept telling him that he'd heal up eventually, so he wasn't going to worry about it. Maybe that was the drugs talking. Whatever. 

It felt like two minutes, but in that hazy sort of way drugs made it to where it was definitely hours later, Tony showed up. He was crying. "Hey honey," he said, smoothing hair away from Bucky's forehead. "You're um- you're a little banged up right now, but you'll get better. It'll take some getting used to, but I'll be right there with you the whole time, I promise." He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Bucky's forehead. "I promise," he said again, voice so quiet Bucky could barely hear him over the noise of the hospital. "I'll take care of you for as long as you need it." 

Bucky wanted to tell him he loved him; he wanted to grab Tony and not let go until he felt better, but he couldn't really move. He tilted his head a little, resting it against Tony's. This was probably going to be the worst thing he went through, but Tony was going to be there for him. He wasn't getting shoved off to be someone else's problem, Tony was staying. For all the times Tony told him that he cared about him in the past couple months, this was the first time Bucky believed it. He closed his eyes, and Tony was there; when he opened them again, he knew that Tony would be there, without a doubt. 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Bond Price](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25159219) by [Stasia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stasia/pseuds/Stasia)




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